


the other side of paradise

by jacenbren



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra, Avatar: The Last Airbender, Lego Ninjago
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Amputation, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood, Blood and Injury, Body Dysmorphic Disorder, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Character Turned Into a Ghost, Child Neglect, Childhood Trauma, Couch Cuddles, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Dark Magic, Depression, Dragons, Eating Disorders, Elemental Dragons, Elemental Magic, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Smut, Falling In Love, Families of Choice, Flashbacks, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Guilt, Homoerotic sword fights, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Insomnia, Inspired by Avatar: Legend of Korra, M/M, Magical Artifacts, Malnutrition, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Mind Meld, Morro Needs A Hug, Morro is very reluctant when it comes to hugs/cuddles, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Nonbinary Zane, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Prosthesis, Rare Pairings, Recreational Drug Use, Redemption, Self-Hatred, Self-Worth Issues, Slow Burn, Slow Dancing, Slow To Update, Spirit World, Spirits, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Teaching, Team Bonding, Team as Family, Trauma, What-If, dark spirits, gratuitous use of italiacs, i’m giving morro the character development and redemption arc he deserves, morro lives and bonds with cole over the whole being dead thing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-12
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:07:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27517345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jacenbren/pseuds/jacenbren
Summary: Sure, Sensei Wu had saved him from being dissolved when the Preeminent had gone down by commanding his dragon to bite through that tentacle, but in a way, Sensei had doomed him to something worse than the Departed Realm.Morro had nothing; hewasnothing.He had nowhere else to go.(Or in which Morro didn’t let go of Wu’s hand, Cole needs someone to teach him how to control his new ghostly body, Clouse went for something other than the Teapot of Tyrahn, and twenty thousand years ago a hero fell, destroying the old world and building something new.)
Relationships: Cole & Morro (Ninjago), Cole/Morro (Ninjago), Kai/Zane (Ninjago), Morro & Sensei Wu (Ninjago)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 67
Collections: The_Newbie's Ninjago Fanfic Collection





	1. Etch-A-Sketch

**Author's Note:**

> So this will probably be a little slow to update but writer’s block has hit me like a freight train on my big Star Wars WIP (y’all can check it out if you want it’s titled Carry On, My Wayward Son) so have this crumb of content instead

Morro prided himself in being flexible. 

For the better part of one thousand and thirty-four years, he’d been trapped in the Cursed Realm. There, you either adapted to the darkness, or you slowly succumbed to it, and Morro remembered centuries ago how he’d greeted it with open arms. 

The Preeminent had been bemused by him, and he’d risen through the ranks of cursed spirits in record time. 

He’d never been happy, though. 

Morro couldn’t remember ever _really_ being happy in his whole life (or death).

All of it had been one form of suffering after the next, most of it completely out of his control, so he adapted. He embraced the pain, and it made him stronger. When he commanded the winds, the resulting rage had fueled him, and he could take down anyone in his path. 

But adapting to this… 

Morro knew full well that if Sensei Wu hadn’t saved him from the Preeminent, he’d currently be in the Departed Realm, but he still had a feeling it would be favorable to the situation he was in now. 

“Now you listen to me very carefully, _buddy,”_ Kai snarled, fury quite literally burning in his eyes as he held his aeroblade against his throat. “I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing, but I don’t fucking trust you. Neither does _anyone_ here. If I see you put one toe out of line or lay a single goddamn finger on Lloyd, I’ll send your ass back to the hellhole you came from in the most painful way I can think of, _have I made myself clear?”_

Morro resisted the urge to cringe away from the Deepstone blade against his neck. He’d been expecting someone to pull him aside and threaten him. 

“Got it,” he muttered dryly. 

He wasn’t playing any games, though, and that made the twisted, violent part of him scream at the unjustness of Kai threatening him. But there was a good reason for it, too, and that made Morro want to curl up somewhere and die. 

Well, _technically_ he was already dead. 

“Glad we could reach an understanding,” Kai snapped, roughly dropping him and storming off to rejoin the others on the deck of their flying boat. 

Morro squeezed his eyes shut. 

He felt like he was going to cry, but no tears would come. 

They never did. 

He quickly phased through the wall and curled his body into the deepest corner of the supply closet he’d been using as a sort of bedroom, a sob catching in his throat, the weight of everything he’d ever done catching up to him again and _squeezing,_ suffocating him until he was sobbing uncontrollably into his hands. 

Morro couldn’t remember what tears felt like.

Sure, Sensei Wu had saved him from being dissolved when the Preeminent had gone down by commanding his dragon to bite through that tentacle, but in a way, Sensei had doomed him to something worse than the Departed Realm. 

Morro had nothing; he _was_ nothing. 

He had nowhere else to go. 

He was unwanted here. No one trusted him, no one would care if something happened to him. Hell, they’d probably be fucking elated. 

Somehow, Morro found himself in one of the bathrooms, standing in the shower stall with a shaking hand on the knob. 

“Damn it,” he choked out, trying to figure out how to turn it on. “Come on, come on—”

“What are you doing?”

Morro jumped in alarm and accidentally triggered the faucet. He would’ve been dissolved and finally gone if a large pair of hands hadn’t yanked him out of the stall, the worst of the damage being a few droplets hitting his arm and making him hiss in pain. 

“What the hell?” Morro spluttered. 

Then he turned, and for a second he thought somehow Soul Archer or Bansha had survived the battle. 

Then he realized it was just Cole, one of the ninja, the one who’d been turned into a ghost. They’d barely exchanged words when Wu had first brought Morro back to them, probably out of fear and resentment. 

“I could be asking you the same thing, buddy,” Cole said, sounding genuinely worried (and the nickname _buddy_ didn’t sound quite as malicious when he was the one saying it). “I was passing by and I heard you muttering to yourself. I was kinda confused because why would you be in the bathroom? You literally don’t need it.”

“I was standing in the shower and trying to turn it on,” Morro muttered. “What do you _think_ I was gonna do? Or are you really as dumb as the rocks you like to climb?”

Part of him was tempted to shove Cole away and walk straight into the warm stream of water coming from the shower head. 

Cole’s eyes widened in alarm. 

“Wh—why? Didn’t Sensei save you from the Preeminent? Why would you want to—“

“You _know_ why!” Morro snapped, his patience finally running out. “Wu just doomed me to spending the rest of eternity in a world where I’m untrusted and unwelcome and I’m doing you guys a goddamn favor! Nobody was gonna say it, but you all want me dead. So I’m taking care of it myself to make it easier on everybody.”

Cole was silent. 

“Come on,” Morro snapped, that stupid terrified look on Cole’s face just fueling the storm of bitter rage inside him. “Why don’t you admit it? I have nothing left to lose. It’s not like anybody’s gonna give a damn if I end this. I’m not special like you. I’m just as worthless as any other piece of shit human on this planet, and you can stop pretending to care. Now get the _fuck_ out of here so I can kill myself in peace, or I’ll take you with me, how about that?”

If he was capable of crying, he would be. 

“Morro, you’re not as worthless as you think,” Cole said, his voice nervous and quiet. “Do you think… do you think you can hold off on… on killing yourself? I’m still pretty new to this whole ghost thing and I was wondering if you could teach me…”

Morro froze. 

He felt taken aback as he struggled to come up with an answer. Cole wanted him to help him learn how to go through daily life as a ghost, which was shocking because _nobody_ trusted Morro—

“So… is that a yes, buddy?”

That was what did it. 

That casual nickname Cole was using for him, that was supposed to be used for a friend.

Did… did Cole see him like that?

Like a friend?

Morro broke down completely, sitting down heavily on the toilet seat as something guilty and angry and sad brought those awful sobs back and then suddenly Cole was hugging him—

“Hey, hey, don’t cry,” Cole blurted, a bit awkwardly. “Look, man, I know nobody else really… likes your presence, I guess that’s the kindest term for it anyway, but I get it, buddy. Us ghosts gotta stick together, am I right?”

His awkward laugh just made Morro sob harder. 

He didn’t even bother to squirm away as Cole effortlessly picked him up and phased through the bathroom door, carrying him back to the supply closet. 

And they sat there for a long time, until Morro finally stopped crying. 

“I can’t believe you don’t hate me,” Morro mumbled, leaning back against the wall, wiping nonexistent tears off his face (he’d never quite forgotten that gesture, even after being dead for so long). “I kinda indirectly got you turned into a ghost.”

“I’m not gonna lie to you, man, that still kinda irks me, but I actually understand how you feel right now,” Cole replied, his expression turning somber and sad as he practiced picking up an old Day of the Departed lantern, swearing in frustration when his hand went through it a few times by accident. “And a lot better than you think I do. I ran away from my dad when I was a kid. He was pissed at me and sent me off to this fancy academy because he wanted me to be a dancer like him, but I hated it. So I ran, and then I was just wandering around, doing odd jobs around Ninjago so I wouldn’t starve or freeze until Sensei found me. The reason I went with him was… well, like you, I didn’t have anywhere else to go. I was just another stray teenager, homeless and wandering because if I actually went home… well, let’s just say that back then, it wouldn’t’ve been my home for much longer.”

It was quiet. 

“I was a street rat when Wu found me,” Morro found himself saying, his lips moving practically on autopilot, even though each word brought back memory after painful memory. “He took me in. Gave me a home I never had. And then… well, I don’t think he really understood since he’d already been alive for almost a thousand years, but to the little kid I was, the words _might be_ always sound like _will be._ I grew up thinking that I was gonna be special. That I’d be powerful. And when I turned out _not_ to be the Green Ninja…”

He gestured at himself. 

That made Cole laugh, but not in a mean way. 

In a way that made Morro chuckle along with him, albeit bitterly. 

“You know, Kai wanted to be the Green Ninja really bad, too,” Cole remarked. “He may be pissed at you now and hold one hell of a grudge, but he hated Garmadon like that at one point, even after he turned good. He spent almost half his life raising Nya by himself after their parents disappeared, so he’s… well, he sees Lloyd as his little brother, and Kai’s _very_ protective of anyone he considers a sibling. Just give him time. You’re kinda at a point where you can get a fresh start, man. Like you’re an Etch-A-Sketch and the Preeminent shook you so bad that everything on you got fucked up.”

“Right,” Morro nodded, even though he had no idea what an Etch-A-Sketch was. Something Cole had said that had struck him as odd, though. “What did you mean about Kai holding a grudge against Garmadon? What did he do?”

Cole’s eyes practically bugged out of his head. “Holy shit, you don’t know about—you know what, fuck it, I’m gonna have to give you a blow-by-blow of the past thousand years, okay? You’ve missed a lot, buddy.”

That made Morro snort. 

Maybe, he thought to himself as Cole broke into a long ramble about something involving Fangblades and a volcano, things would start to look up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know he’ll never get it in canon so I’m giving Morro the character/redemption arc he deserves because I always get attached to the traumatized sad asshole characters no matter what media it is and when I watch or read things my brain makes weird connections between different fandoms so naturally it somehow combined the Avatar universe and the Ninjago universe (I’ll explain the logistics of that later)  
> Also like.. Morro bonding with Cole after being asked for lessons on how to control his tangibility which results in a nice slow burn/enemies to friends to lovers thing?? good shit


	2. Sugar Packets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait I wanted to get the story a little more fleshed out before I posted anything else (hope y’all like angst because that’s like half the plot)

The icy silence in the room was probably cold enough that even Zane would put on a coat, Morro thought to himself, gripping the edge of the calligraphy table so hard that his nails dug into the wood.

It was an old table, the surface worn smooth from centuries of use.

  
  
“So are you gonna tell me what you want?” Morro finally snapped, his frustration finally overflowing, “Or are you gonna sit there and stare at me?”

Wu sighed. 

“Have you ever heard of elemental dragons, Morro?”

Morro’s scowl deepened.

Oh, he’d heard of them before. But only after Wu had found out that he wasn’t the _Green Ninja_ and stopped telling him anything so he’d had to learn it all on his own—

“Yeah,” he growled.

“You seem troubled,” Wu said, reaching for his tea kettle.

And that was when Morro’s anger exploded.

“WHAT THE HELL ELSE WOULD I BE?” He spat, accidentally blasting Wu’s hat off with a violent gust of wind. “I DIDN’T _ASK_ TO BE SAVED!”

Wu just sighed heavily and picked his hat up off the floor.

Somehow that just made Morro angrier. 

Just once.

Just _once,_ he wanted to see Wu get angry and scream and shout and do _something_ other than sigh in disappointment and pour another cup of tea, but it _never happened._

What was _wrong_ with him?

“Morro, your anger clouds your judgement,” Wu said. “Remember how you were never able to unlock your true potential? There is conflict inside you that you must resolve first.”

“Don’t fucking rub it in my face!” Morro snarled. “It’s not my fault I’ll never be good enough for you!”

No response, except for a frown.

It took every ounce of Morro’s own self-restraint to keep himself from screaming; from throwing himself at his former teacher and killing the old man. It would be _so fucking easy,_ too, just a flick of his wrist and he could suck the air out of Wu’s lungs and watch him slowly suffocate to death on the floor—

“It’s not that you weren’t good enough,” Wu’s voice jarred him back to reality. “Your obsession drove you insane, and I couldn’t do anything to stop it. And I _want_ to help you heal, but if you keep shutting me out—”

“You _made_ me like that!” Morro spluttered, and if he’d been capable of crying, he would be by now. “You _made_ me believe!” 

“I didn’t _make_ you do anything,” Wu huffed, his tone sharpening.

Before Morro realized what was happening, the calligraphy table was cracked in half on the floor, splinters embedded in his fist and making tiny clouds green ectoplasm—the closest thing a ghost had to blood—leak into the air.

He was hyperventilating, and Morro dimly registered the picture frames on the wall rattling from the wind gusting around him.

Somehow, under his fury, he felt _bad_ about breaking that antique table in half. Hell, it was probably older than Wu himself, given the old man’s bizarre taste for furniture styles from the days before the Serpentine Wars Morro had heard about at one point.

“Morro—“ Wu began.

He didn’t let him finish.

Morro whipped around, yanked open the door and stormed out of Wu’s study. He _could’ve_ just phased through the wall, but somehow the simple act of slamming a door so loud that it rattled on his hinges made him feel just a _little_ bit better.

Wu should’ve let him go. 

Wu should’ve sent him to the Departed Realm like he deserved. 

If anyone, _Wu_ should be the one who wanted to do that the most, not Kai and Lloyd.

Morro was his biggest failure.

His chest tightening with guilt and rage, Morro didn’t stop running through the ship until he stumbled into a room he’d never been in.

He froze.

It… looked like a war room of some kind, a map of Ninjago tacked to the wall next to a computer, some comfy-looking bean bag chairs and a couch surrounding a low coffee table, and a coffee machine in the corner.

Morro caught a glimpse of the little basket full of sugar packets.

Suddenly he was thrown back in a distant, faded memory from his childhood, hiding under a table in a tavern at eight years old mere days before he’d first met Wu, stealing the little pouches of sugar from the centerpieces while the servers’ backs were turned. It had been a good trick to make his body forget he was starving for a few hours, giving him a reprieve from the agonizing hunger gnawing in his gut as he struggled to find something to eat.

Out of habit, Morro grabbed a handful of little paper sugar packets and jammed them into the pockets of his ragged poncho.

That reminded him; he needed new clothes, he thought to himself, ripping open one of the paper packets and pouring the contents into his hand—just like he had as a kid—and licked the sugar off it. 

He frowned. 

That was both time consuming and messy… 

Morro popped a packet into his mouth whole, chewing the paper. It was thin enough that it didn’t do much to the taste, and it was fast. 

He shrugged and stuffed another handful of sugar packets into his poncho, and, after a moment of consideration, he started poking at the coffee machine itself. He’d tried drinking things other than water as a ghost, and although it tended to make his mouth sore after a while, he’d succeeded in drinking coffee before. 

His favorite part was that even though his sense of taste had diminished in his deceased state, he could still taste black coffee, and the bitterness was a welcome distraction from… well, _everything._

Somehow, Morro found himself settling on one of the beanbag chairs with the basket of sugar packets in his lap, contemplating things. Strangely enough, he felt comfortable here, by himself in a soft, warm spot. Sure, he hadn’t been able to properly touch or feel anything since his death, but the softness of the cushion was pleasant enough and and for the first time in forever, Morro wasn’t worried about getting attacked.

He hadn’t felt so at ease since… 

Well, maybe it was the sugar talking. Morro literally couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten. 

It had to have been centuries. 

Suddenly, out of the blue, he heard muffled shouting from down the hall. 

Morro froze. 

Instinctively he went invisible and incorporeal, the basket of sugar packets phasing through his hands. 

“It wasn’t your fault!” Someone yelled, and judging by the pitch, it was most likely Jay. “Listen, man, I know you’re stressed out but everybody knows it was an accident! I’m sure if you focus next time—“

“I shouldn’t _have_ to fucking focus in the first place! He’s hurt because of me because… because I’m like _this!”_

Oh, shit, Cole sounded angry. 

Well, not really angry, Morro thought, frowning. More… distraught, if anything, like he was scared and panicking. 

“Cole, he doesn’t blame you,” Jay said frantically. “Please, he _knows_ that the only reason you didn’t catch the dumpster was because you literally couldn’t feel it. Just take a deep breath, okay? For me, buddy?”

“I can’t feel anything!” Cole choked, clearly close to tears. “I can’t touch and I can’t feel and I can’t do anything and I SAID DON’T TRY TO FUCKIN’ TOUCH ME!”

The yelling retreated further down the hall. 

Then the door to the war room slammed open and Jay rushed in, face buried in his hands as he collapsed in the chair _right next to Morro,_ sobbing.

Morro sat paralyzed by fear of what Jay would do to him if he was caught, watching in mild fascination as the Lightning Master cried, tears streaming down his already bright red cheeks. 

Morro couldn’t remember the feeling of tears running down his face. He’d been intrigued and mesmerized by the stinging sensation and how his eyes teared up from the icy wind in his face when he’d climbed the Wailing Alps while possessing Lloyd, but he hadn’t ever cried genuine tears in a physical body since… 

_“Help… s… someone… someone help me… p—please…”_

Morro gritted his teeth in numb terror, that sick feeling in his stomach rising and nearly making him nauseous as the memories of his death struck him again at full force. 

The toxic gas leaking from the volcanic vent.

Frantically trying to shift the rocks from the cave-in. 

Crying and begging for someone, anyone to help him, as he finally collapsed on the rocks from exhaustion, his heart pounding violently from oxygen deprivation as his vision faded to nothing. 

And then the cold embrace of the Preeminent had awoken him.

Suddenly Jay’s tears didn’t fascinate him anymore. Watching the guy cry made him feel sick. 

He couldn’t take it anymore.

Morro scrambled to his feet (making sure to keep his body incorporeal) and phased through the wall into the next room without bothering to wonder about which one it was, and he sighed in relief as Jay’s sobs disappeared thanks to the incredible noise canceling on the _Bounty_ (which was a blessing, considering how loud it could be with six almost-adults).

“What the hell are you doing in my room?”

Morro practically had a heart attack (the thought made him chuckle internally; he’d never gotten old enough for heart attacks to be a legitimate concern of his).

Then his mild amusement promptly vanished.

He was in a room decked out in band posters and record covers, several plates with what looked suspiciously like cake crumbs on them stacked on the desk, and a… boombox? Was that what Cole called it? Well, whatever it was called, the music player thingie was sitting on top of the dresser. Everything in the room was covered in a fine layer of dust, like it hadn’t been disturbed in weeks.

And curled up in a ball on the untouched bed was Cole, wearing nothing but his pants and boots, looking absolutely miserable.

“I _said,_ what the hell are you doing in my room?” He hissed.

“Uh,” Morro blurted, his ability to lie on the spot abruptly deciding to abandon him. “I… uh, I got lost, and… and I heard yelling. You don’t look good.”

Pensive silence.

“Kai got hurt,” Cole finally mumbled. “We were chasing a gang of criminals who robbed a bank. They dropped a dumpster on us. I didn’t even notice it happened because… because…”

Suddenly it clicked; the layer of dust covering Cole’s room, his miserable expression… 

After a moment of consideration, Morro made up his mind.

“Well,” he huffed, remembering their talk from a few days ago, “you asked me to teach you how to be a ghost. I guess your first lesson is keeping yourself corporeal on command.”

Cole blinked. “Y—you meant it?”

“You said it yourself,” Morro muttered, pulling a sugar packet out of his poncho. “Us ghosts gotta stick together.”

He tossed the packet at Cole.

The little paper packet went right through his body and landed on the bed with a quiet _sshh_ from the sugar inside.

“I can’t do it,” Cole mumbled hoarsely. 

“Yes you can,” Morro shot back. “It just takes focus. But don’t think about making yourself solid. Focus on catching it.”

He tossed another packet at Cole.

This time, the packet ricocheted off Cole’s hand and went flying as he fumbled for it, clearly startled.

“Shit,” Cole blurted. Then he frowned. “Why do you have so many of these?”

Morro faltered.

“Uh,” he mumbled, suddenly self-conscious, “I like sweet things. And these… these are easy to carry and hide. Nobody wants me walking around, anyway.”

“Bullshit,” Cole cut him off, a faint, crumpled smile slowly appearing on his face. “You deserve some dessert, especially with the shit you went through in the Cursed Realm. As soon as I get a handle on… well, _feeling_ again, I’m taking you to a bakery so you can taste real— _did you just eat that thing whole?”_

Morro stopped chewing in surprise as Cole stared at him like he’d grown a second head.

“What?” He demanded.

Cole snorted. “Okay, now that you’re not actively trying to kill us, the weird shit you do is actually really fuckin’ funny.”

Morro scowled.

“In a good way, though,” Cole added. “Like Zane! I mean, he’s partially the way he is because he’s got autism, but it’s reassuring, I guess. Like, he’s not overly perfect in every way like Pixal is and he feels a little more human. She kinda freaks me out sometimes. I wonder if Zane would bake me that chocolate ganache cake that I like… do you like chocolate?”

Morro couldn’t help smirking.

“You know,” he remarked, fishing out another sugar packet, “For somebody who calls Jay a motormouth, you ramble a lot.”

“Hey!”

That made Morro laugh out loud.

It felt… strange, to laugh. Morro couldn’t remember the last time he’d genuinely laughed out of amusement that wasn’t at another’s suffering.

That made his chest tighten again.

It was almost ironic, he thought to himself as the guilt clenching around his heart reminded him of his childhood. A Master of Wind who’d had weak lungs in life. One of the few plus sides of being dead meant he didn’t have to deal with asthma anymore.

That had really wreaked havoc on him as a street kid.

“Try again,” he said, quickly shaking off the memories as he pulled out yet another sugar packet and tossed it at Cole.

And this time, Cole caught it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Morro: *chewing on something*  
> Cole: whats in your mouth  
> Morro:  
> Cole: I SAID WHATS IN YOUR MOUTH MORRO  
> Morro: *starts chewing faster*
> 
> For real tho I read Mattecat’s fic forgetting a coin for the ferryman and the mental image of Morro hoarding those sugar packets you get at restaurants makes me cackle  
> Also Zane has the exact same energy as Janet from The Good Place and I project onto him way too much so.. yeah I headcanon him to be both non-binary and neurodivergent ok


	3. Spirits

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the long wait for the update but I’m juggling this with my Star Wars WIP and I somehow got writers block on both of them?? Like how does my garbage ADHD brain even do that
> 
> I’m gonna start leaving content warnings on each chapter btw just to be safe
> 
> CW: suicidal ideation, explicit language

“There’s been another disturbance,” Nya explained, tapping away at the  _ Bounty’s _ computer. “Some ghosts that managed to slip past us when the Preeminent went down that’re causing trouble in one of the villages near Stiix. Somebody needs to go out and deal with them.”

A collective groan echoed through the room.

Morro knew he shouldn’t be eavesdropping, but more ghosts… that sounded bad.

He curled up in the vent, jamming another sugar packet into his mouth, paper and all. The habit of stealing those little paper packets from the war room had stuck, and Zane must’ve noticed it because he’d started putting twice as much of those little packets on the table for every meal.

Morro wasn’t sure if the man was actually socially inept enough to  _ not _ be afraid of him, or if he was just really good at hiding it.

Knowing that Zane was both neurodivergent  _ and _ a Nindroid, either option was plausible.

“Well, I’m not going,” Kai remarked, kicking his feet up on the table, and Morro couldn’t help smirking when he saw the cast on his arm (Kai probably deserved whatever had happened to warrant it). “If I ever see another ghost in my life, it’ll be too soon. No offense, Cole.”

Cole, who was sitting on the kitchen counter with a pudding cup in hand, shrugged. “None taken. Just don’t say that in front of Morro, he might take it the wrong way. Might wanna cut him some slack.”

“I’ve been ‘cutting him some slack’ for weeks,” Lloyd bristled. 

“If anything you should be cutting  _ Lloyd _ some slack,” Kai grumbled. “The guy that Sensei  _ apparently _ wants us to accept as one of our own possessed him, used his body like a tool, and almost killed all of us! If I had my way, I would’ve dumped Morro’s ass in the ocean when Sensei first brought him back.”

That made Morro flinch. Sure, he’d known  _ that _ from the start, but it still hurt.

Cole scowled. “Look, you haven’t seen him like I have. He’s clearly been through some traumatic shit without any healthy coping mechanisms! Of  _ course _ he’s gonna do some fucked up shit! I mean, you forgave Garmadon—”

“Don’t fucking bring my dad into this,” Lloyd spat, and Morro froze in alarm as Lloyd’s pupils went slit-like like a cat’s, the red in his irises suddenly much more prominent. “And why do you care so much about Morro, anyway?”

“Can we  _ please _ not fight?” Jay blurted.

_ “Not fight?” _ Cole snapped angrily. “You’re telling me we can forgive a murderous, two-thousand-year-old warlord _ and _ never give him any kind of repercussions for his actions because he _miraculously_ got the venom that turned him evil sucked out of his system, but not a guy who died scared and alone and did what he did because he died a fucking traumatizing, horrible death and didn’t want to get tortured for fucking eternity? Who’s fully aware that none of you guys trust him and that you want to get rid of him? Look, if you seriously think he’s gonna try and start shit now with how you guys’re always on your toes, you’re fucking delusional. I think the only reason he seems to be opening up to me is because  _ I _ showed him basic fucking human decency and didn’t threaten to kill him as soon as he set foot on the  _ Bounty _ and of all people,  _ Lloyd, _ you said it yourself that  _ everybody _ deserves a second chance!”

“As much as I hate to admit it, Cole’s got a point,” Nya remarked.

“It was different with my dad!” Lloyd snarled, slamming his fist on the table. “He didn’t have a choice, but  _ Morro _ did!”

“You’re right,” Zane murmured timidly. “Morro made a decision to embrace the darkness, but it was either that or waste away into insanity. And he made another decision when Sensei rescued him. He could have let go of Sensei’s hand and gone away to the Departed Realm, and he could’ve attempted to run away or attack and kill us countless times already, but he hasn’t.”

“Oh,  _ great, _ you too?” Kai growled, and the acidity in his voice was enough to dissolve an iron nail.

“I am simply approaching this matter from a logical standpoint,” Zane replied nervously, and Kai shot to his feet, flames exploding from his palms. 

“Kai,” Nya snapped in a warning tone, but he ignored her.

_ “LOGICAL?” _ Kai snarled. “I’LL SHOW YOU  _ LOGICAL—“ _

The door opened before he could finish his sentence, and Misako walked in, carrying a bag of groceries with Wu by her side.

It was uncomfortably silent.

Morro didn’t bother to stick around to see what happened.

He scrambled off through the vent, ignoring the loud clattering sound it made, his eyes burning and his throat closing up as he phased through the cover and fell into his supply closet and choking for breath like it had during his childhood asthma attacks.

He was dividing the team.

This was his fault.

He started thinking about the shower again, thinking about what it would be like to dissolve himself and just go, just  _ leave _ and end the infighting—

“Hey… uh… you in here?”

Morro flinched, pressing himself further into the corner.

“Go away,” he hissed.

Then Cole phased through the door, frowning at him, and Morro finally couldn’t hold it in anymore.

He broke down sobbing.

_ Again.  _

“I’m… I’ll take that as a yeah, you heard the argument,” he heard Cole say, his voice strained. “I… I don’t know, okay? I mean, Lloyd’s not  _ really _ wrong, it  _ was _ different with Garmadon, but—“

“Just shut the hell up,” Morro choked. “I don’t wanna fucking hear it. Please. I can’t take this anymore.”

_ Let me go _

He was a problem for the team and they both knew it, no matter how much Cole tried to make him feel better.

_ Let me die _

“Sensei talked to them, don’t worry,” Cole murmured, cautiously reaching out and patting his shoulder. “He won’t let anybody hurt you, I promise. Just… please don’t do anything stupid.”

“I want to go,” Morro blurted.

Cole blinked in confusion. “Go… where?”

“The mission,” Morro said.

Just like when he’d been in the Cursed Realm, he could feel the pain in his heart cooling, hardening and shaping itself into something useful.

A weapon or a tool, he couldn’t tell yet.

Cole’s eyes widened. “You really want to go out on a mission? I mean, I’m not saying you shouldn’t but it’s kinda risky going somewhere populated—“

“I need to prove myself,” Morro snapped, sitting forward. “If helping kill some ghosts’ll help convince them whose side I’m on, that’s what I’ll do. I don’t care if I get attacked by an angry mob. I need to show them I’m done trying to kill them  _ somehow.” _

Cole looked stunned. “Oh.”

———

The ride to the village was relatively quiet.

Since Morro couldn’t summon an elemental dragon, he had to ride with Cole since no one else had wanted to carry him (Zane offered, but Wu had asked the Nindroid to stay behind on the  _ Bounty).  _

But flying… 

Morro never got tired of the thrill.

The breeze whipping through his hair, the air currents swirling around him and the feeling of  _ really _ being free—

“Careful, you don’t wanna fall.”

Morro opened his eyes, and he realized he was  _ standing _ on the back of Cole’s dragon behind the saddle.

“We’re over water right now,” Cole said, a grin quirking at his lips. “Might wanna sit down, buddy. If you fell I can’t guarantee I’d be able to catch you in time.”

“I can fly, you know,” Morro grumbled.

Cole arched an eyebrow. “For an hour back to land without passing out from exhaustion? In this shitty—no, right, you can control the wind currents. But still, it’s a long way back.”

“You got me there,” Morro sighed, dropping back down in the saddle. Out of the corner of his eye he spotted Jay’s lightning dragon and Lloyd’s energy dragon, both flapping their wings to fight a heavy headwind.

Morro frowned.

With a wave of his arms, he redirected the current into a steady tailwind, allowing their dragons to level out and glide in Cole’s slipstream.

Jay seemed confused, but then they made eye contact.

Morro resisted the urge to cower, but Jay grinned. “Ha, thanks! Fighting that wind was really tiring out my dragon!”

That almost made Morro smile. 

“No problem,” he called, and without warning Cole’s dragon went into a dive. 

Morro yelped and grabbed onto the back of Cole’s gi, alarm flashing through him as he almost slipped out of the saddle. 

“We’re almost there,” Cole shouted. 

Morro narrowed his eyes, steeling himself against the mist of the clouds, and he felt Cole flinch at the fine moisture blowing at both of them as they descended. And then they broke through the clouds, the village coming into view, and—

“Holy shit,” Cole breathed, his horror audible. “I thought they said it was just a couple ghosts.”

Morro stared down at the blackened slash through the center of the village, all the buildings either collapsed, in flames, or both. That giant scorched area looked like a massive sword blow from above, and he felt an awful feeling in the pit of his stomach—well, what _would’ve_ been his stomach if he hadn’t been dead.

But somehow, deep down, Morro knew this wasn’t the work of cursed spirits. The damage was just too great, as far as he could see from the air. 

“Look for survivors,” Lloyd yelled as they landed, their dragons dissipating in a flash of light. “If you see a ghost, kill it.”

Cole must’ve noticed Morro make a face because he said, “He didn’t mean you.”

“Right,” Morro grumbled. “‘Course he didn’t.”

As they walked through the village, taking in the extent of the damage, Morro’s gut feeling that this wasn’t the work of ghosts only grew. Sure, there were Deepstone weapons scattered everywhere—but that was to be expected in light of the recent events in Stiix—and other than that there wasn’t any sign of ghostly altercations. Besides, ghosts could… well, the best word for it was sense each other. Morro could pick up on the presence of another spectre like him within a certain distance (he could tell exactly when Cole was nearby at all times but not his exact location), but right now he couldn’t feel anything. 

“I don’t think this was ghosts,” Cole said suddenly as they approached what was left of the village square. “It… it just feels  _ off.” _

“You read my mind,” Morro grumbled. 

He had just climbed up the side of a partially collapsed shop to try and get a better look at the surrounding area when he suddenly heard shuffling in an alley.

Frowning, Morro peered around the corner. Maybe there were survivors—

_ “AAAAAAAH!” _

Morro did a double take as the man with shaggy red hair and a strange mechanical eyepatch spotted him, scrambling back in fear.

“Ronin?” He blurted.

He suddenly felt guilty. Ronin was another of the countless people Morro had tortured.

Of course the man was terrified.

“Okay, listen here you bastard,” Ronin snarled, yanking out a shortsword as he backed into the wall behind him. “I don’t know what this is or what you’re playing at, but I already called the—“

“The Ninja?” Morro cut him off dryly.

Right, Ronin didn’t know Sensei Wu had taken him in yet.

Ronin seemed to freeze. “Oh no. I don’t like that tone; what did you do to them this time—“

“Ronin? You’re still here?”

Morro turned, blinking in surprise. There was Jay, holding his nunchucks and looking curious rather than alarmed.

“Of course I am!” Ronin huffed, lowering his sword a bit. “Wait, hold on, what’re you doing with that little creep? Why aren’t you attacking him or something?”

“Because he’s on our side now,” Lloyd growled, sidling around Jay. 

Ronin blinked in confusion.

“Trust me, I’m not happy about it either,” Lloyd added irritably, kicking a chunk of rubble. “Nobody is. But long story short, Morro’s actually one of Sensei’s ex-students, and apparently he’s getting a  _ second chance. _ Personally, I don’t think he’ll ever change. He’ll  _ always _ be a fucking monster.”

Jay seemed to flinch, clearly uncomfortable from Lloyd’s words, but Morro didn’t react to the venom in Lloyd’s voice in the slightest. He knew full well Lloyd definitely had a valid reason to hate him, what with the whole  _ stealing his body and using it like a tool _ thing.

“I… have no idea how I feel about this,” Ronin remarked.

And then, before Morro could react, Ronin lunged forward and slammed the butt of his sword into his forehead so hard Morro stumbled.

“OW!” Morro snarled, pain exploding through his skull and making his head spin.

“And  _ that _ was for possessing me and almost getting my associates killed,” Ronin said cheerfully, putting his sword away with a smirk. “But lucky for you, I don’t hold death grudges because let’s be honest, at least half the people I’ve done business with have tried to kill me at  _ least _ twice. You owe me some favors, Ghost Bastard. And by the way, you’re not on my good side yet so I’d sleep with your eyes open.”

Morro grimaced, gingerly touching his forehead.

Damn, if he’d still had a physical body, that would’ve left a nasty bruise. That blade was Deepstone-forged, judging by the faint blue glow clinging to the dark metal.

“So can you tell us what happened here?” Jay asked. “They said it was just a couple of ghosts, and lemme tell you, this does NOT look like the work of a couple of the Preeminent’s pissed-off lackeys who managed to slip by us.”

Ronin frowned. “I mean, not really. I just got here when the fighting was wrapping up. To… uh… borrow stuff. For my pawn shop.”

Lloyd groaned.

“What?” Ronin demanded, holding up his hands with an affronted look on his face. “I mean, it’s not like the villagers are gonna  _ need _ their stuff anymore! All I know is that this… this weird shadow thing just came out of the mountainside and started sucking people into the ground with these shadow tentacle things. That’s the only way I can really describe it.”

Morro froze.

Something Wu had told him when he was a kid suddenly popped into his mind, old memories of bedtime stories resurfacing. 

“Shadow tentacles?” He blurted. “What did the shadow thing look like?”

“Like a weird-ass kite, why?” Ronin asked, wrinkling his nose in confusion. “I mean, kinda. It also kinda looked like a demented carpet. With weird ribbon-lookin’ tentacle things.”

Morro almost crumpled in terror.

He was suddenly back in his bed, only nine years old with the blankets pulled up to his chin, crying as Sensei Wu hugged him close, soothing him gently.

_ “I had a nightmare,” he whimpered, clutching the blanket. _

_ “About what?” Wu asked, wiping tears off Morro’s cheeks with his sleeve. “Nightmares can be a sign of a troubled mind.” _

_ “About the bedtime story you told me last night,” Morro mumbled, shivering from the draft coming through the open window. “The one about—“ _

_ Wu’s face creased with sympathy. “The Yin and Yang?” _

_ Morro nodded glumly. _

_ “Young one,” Wu sighed, pulling him into a hug, “I am sorry if the story scared you. But it is important to know the magical history of the universe, for one day it could affect you.” _

_ “I—is Vaatu real?” Morro blurted, fresh tears prickling in his eyes. _

_ “The Yin Spirit,” Wu corrected him. “His true name was not meant to be spoken by mortals. And yes, he is real, but he is locked away so deep that he and his Dark Army will never return.” _

And suddenly Morro heard a rumbling sound.

“We have to leave,” he blurted, every ounce of fear that that fucked-up (and kinda traumatizing) excuse for a bedtime story had given him that he’d once managed to suppress suddenly boiling to the surface. 

Lloyd let out an unnervingly reptilian-sounding growl. “You know something about this, don’t you?”

“Do you guys hear that?” Jay asked.

_ At the end of the Magna Tenebras, Raava rose from the ashes of her fallen world, instilling her power in elemental masters so they could defeat the Great Evil and creating the son of Oni and Dragon to hold her essence— _

“What aren’t you telling us?” Lloyd hissed.

The rumbling was getting louder.

“He’s coming,” Morro breathed, dark and sickly energy pooling in the air around them and Jay and Ronin were obviously taking notice of it—

And then Morro heard the scream.

He summoned a gust of wind and leapt up on top of the burned-out building. 

To his horror, a large…  _ something _ was attacking Cole in what had once been the city square. It looked almost like a demented panda, Morro thought to himself as he drew his wakizashi.

A demented panda only a little smaller than the  _ Bounty _ that could breathe purple fire.

And then it swiped out with a massive paw.

To Morro’s shock, the paw didn’t phase through Cole’s body. Instead, it swatted him through the wall of a crumbling building like the Master of Earth was a rag doll, sending a load of bricks down on Cole’s head.

“COLE!” Jay screamed, charging out into the street, electricity crackling in his hands.

Morro just stared in alarm, watching as the beast roared and charged, stumbling as a blast of lightning struck it in the side of the muzzle.

Why was he hesitating?

“Leave my friends alone!” Lloyd roared somewhere off to the right, and a glowing green energy dragon appeared and slammed into the weird giant panda thing.

Then the bricks in the now partially-collapsed building shifted and Cole hauled himself up, groaning as ectoplasm leaked into the air around him, and Morro snapped back to reality.

Suddenly he remembered  _ exactly _ what it was.

The Dark Spirit roared as it clawed at the energy dragon, its shadowy claws sparking off shimmering green scales, purple fire blasting into the overcast sky. Morro frantically tried to remember the details of that bedtime story as he leapt down and summoned a blast of wind to hurl an armload of rubble at the beast, but the memory was so faded… 

Then it clicked.

“Keep hitting it with your elemental powers!” Morro shouted, summoning another violent gust. “Regular weapons aren’t gonna do shit!”

“Duly noted!” Jay squawked.

Morro swore under his breath as the Dark Spirit shrieked and writhed furiously in the energy dragon’s grasp. As nervous as she made him, he wished Nya were here. Wu had mentioned that a certain water-manipulating technique was effective at dealing with supernatural entities, but the problem was Morro couldn't remember  _ what. _

Lloyd, meanwhile, wasn’t looking good. Judging from his gritted teeth and the sweat running down his forehead, keeping the energy dragon in the battle was taking every ounce of strength the kid had.

That dark, vengeful part of Morro snarled bitterly, and he felt his fists clench, his nails digging into his palms.

_ It should’ve been me. I’m stronger than you’ll ever be and if I had that power, I’d’ve already killed this spirit with my dragon and saved the Sixteen Realms ten times over, goddamn it! _

_ It was  _ supposed _ to be me! _

Morro heard himself growl in fury, ignoring the crackling of Jay’s lightning and the roars of the monstrous Dark Spirit as it finally ripped free from the energy dragon, which dissipated in a flash of green-gold light.

Lloyd crumpled to the ground, panting heavily, blood dripping from his nose and ears.

“LLOYD!” Jay shrieked.

Morro blinked.

Oh, shit, now Jay was racing the Dark Spirit to Lloyd and  _ badly _ losing—

But before Morro could move, the ground under the beast’s feet ruptured and what looked freakily like tentacles made of asphalt, earth and brick wrapped around the spirit’s body, dragging it to the ground with an incensed screech. Cole was standing barely twenty feet behind it, his hands buried in the dirt and his face screwed up with concentration.

“Kill it!” He barked, his voice under heavy strain. “It’s… really… fuckin’…  _ strong!” _

“On it!” Ronin yelled, charging at the beast with his Deepstone blade in hand, and Morro somehow found the presence of mind to follow him.

That was a mistake.

The Dark Spirit managed to blow fire at them with a snarl. Luckily it didn’t hit Ronin (who’d leapt out of the way), merely blasting his hat off his head and sending it spinning off down the ruined street like a faulty Day of the Departed firecracker.

Morro wasn’t so lucky.

He hadn’t bothered to try and dodge. Usually fire had little to no effect on ghosts and the most he got from walking through flames was a warm tickling sensation.

This was…  _ not _ it.

Morro screamed as icy cold smothered him, the lilac flames blotting out everything but the horrible feeling of what  _ had _ to be his skin being stripped away. He wanted to move but it was like the purple fire had frozen him in place with a vise-like grip that was even stronger than the Preeminent’s, ripping his essence from what little physical form he had left and it  _ burned— _

Suddenly a dragon was looming above him, wreathed in flames. It seemed barely corporeal, composed of nothing but leaves and other debris caught in swirling gusts of wind underneath its ashy silver-grey scales, eyes glowing white. 

“Help me,” Morro choked out, the raspy sob catching in his chest.  _ “Please.” _

The dragon growled. 

_ UNWORTHY. _

“NO!” Morro let out a ragged scream as the dragon’s form dissolved in the raging Tyrian inferno. “COME BACK! I’LL DO WHATEVER YOU WANT JUST DON’T LEAVE ME HERE LIKE THIS—“

Suddenly a pair of hands locked around his shoulders and ripped him out of the fire, and everything went black. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this is me exposing myself but.. if villain bad why villain have same trauma as me??
> 
> Also I’m sorry about Lloyd being a dick in this but honestly how else would he react in this situation


	4. Dreams

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: broken bones, suicidal thoughts, referenced disordered eating, malnourishment, body image issues, explicit language

_ He was climbing a mountain. _

_ Morro frowned, glancing down at his arms, at his body, which seemed to be moving on autopilot up the steep, rocky cliff face. He was in a physical body, he realized, taking in the smooth dark skin and the surprisingly broad and muscled expanse of his bare chest. _

_ (Most of him was bare, for that matter. Somehow he’d climbed the mountain barefooted and in nothing but a pair of dark grey cargo shorts, a satchel with a canteen and a sandwich in it slung over his shoulder.) _

_ Scaling the cliff felt as natural as walking; the pleasant burn of exertion in his arms and legs made him grin. _

_ Morro pulled himself up the rocks and then he realized he was at the peak of the mountain and he laughed, spreading his arms to the sky and letting the wind whistle through his hair. _

_ He felt wild; he felt free. _

_ The sun was setting over the landscape as he sat on a rock and pulled out his sandwich, watching the clouds scudding across the sky. He didn’t feel cold at all from the wind, merely exhilarated. _

_ Running away had been a blessing and a curse, but this… _

_ Morro would never trade moments like these for anything else in the world. _

_ He smiled to himself. _

_ If only his dad could see him now, perched shirtless and barefoot at the top of a mountain with the wind in his hair and a delicious turkey and Gouda sandwich in his hand instead of in the cafeteria at the performing arts school with a depressing, wilted salad in front of him. _

_ Morro blinked. _

_ Where had  _ that _ thought come from? He’d never gone to a performing arts school while he was alive. _

_ Something in his gut felt… strange. _

_ He frowned, jamming the rest of the sandwich in his mouth before beginning the climb back down the cliff. _

_ Now that the sun was going down, it was starting to get cold, and the chill of the wind started to make Morro shiver. He kept going, leaping from boulder to boulder, wincing at the occasional scratch of the stone against his bare feet. _

_ He made it almost all the way back to the main trail before things went wrong. _

_ Just as he had prepared to make the leap to another boulder, he misjudged the placement of his feet by a micrometer. _

_ His ankle rolled painfully. _

_ Morro shrieked in alarm and pain, losing his balance and tumbling down the rock face. He landed hard at the base of the slope next to the beaten path he’d diverged from earlier, and there was a sickening  _ CRUNCH _ as his right arm hit the rocky ground first and Morro screamed as white-hot agony ripped through him like the blade of a dull sword. _

_ His scream didn’t sound like his own. It was deeper and rougher, childhood squeakiness still clinging to it. _

_ Morro struggled to sit up, gritting his teeth against the pain of the scrapes and bruises and his twisted ankle, but then he let out a loose, guttural wail of pain as he tried to move his right arm. _

_ He forced himself to look at it, and he gagged. _

_ His elbow was twisted at a nauseating angle, chunks of gravel sticking out of torn flesh where something glistening and white was poking through the skin.  _

_ Morro groaned in pain. _

_ He staggered to his feet, barely able to walk because of his swollen ankle, and began the now torturous hike back down the path towards the town he’d been staying in. _

_ His whole body throbbed with pain. _

_ His head spun. _

_ He made it to the outskirts of the village before his strength failed him and he tripped over his own feet, yelling harshly in agony as he fell down on the path. _

_ He let out a whimper, tears leaking down his face as he struggled to move. _

_ He needed to get back to the inn, he thought to himself, his consciousness slipping away as he lay in the path, unable to find it in himself to move. _

_ It hurt too much. _

_ He needed to get back, though; he didn’t have enough money to pay for another night at the inn… _

And then Morro jolted awake, his chest heaving.

“W—wha… where—“ he choked, wrenching his wakizashi violently out of its sheath. 

_ Where was she? _

_ Why hadn’t she drowned him in the freezing darkness where was he why hadn’t she killed him yet— _

“Do you  _ mind?” _

Morro froze, still shaking in terror, but then he got his bearings.

He was in the infirmary on the Bounty, laying on a medical cot next to the window, which was cracked open just a bit to reveal that it was drizzling miserably outside the flying ship. His arms were still as translucent and green as ever (albeit looking like somebody had taken acid to them), but all his clothes save for his worn undershorts were gone.

It made him cringe as he got a good, long look at his overly prominent ribs. 

And Nya was standing in front of him, scowling, a cup of tea in one hand and an orb of water floating in the other. 

“Oh, it’s you,” Morro growled, slowly lowering his wakizashi.

Nya narrowed her eyes. “Cool your jets. I thought I was gonna have to force-feed you this, but at least you’re awake.”

Morro glared suspiciously at the steaming teacup.

“Healing potions don’t work on ghosts,” he growled, gingerly pulling the blankets over himself and grimacing at the pain in his… well, everything. It felt like those purple flames had done a shockingly large amount of damage, at least for fire. That meant it was probably magical.

“It’s not the normal kind,” Nya huffed, passing him the cup. “Special order from Mistaké. She whipped it up specifically for you and Cole.”

Morro stared at the contents of the teacup, a steaming, sickly green brew that smelled faintly of mildew and for some reason, peaches. He had no idea who this Mistaké was, but he had a feeling (judging by Nya’s implications) that she was a friend, or at least an acquaintance of Wu.

He frowned.

Morro had had bad experiences in the past with accepting food from strangers ever since he’d been tricked into eating rat poison by some asshole rich kids when he was six.

What if that was just straight water?

Well, it wasn’t like his will to live was particularly strong, anyway. 

He knocked back the teacup and swallowed the contents in a single gulp, but to his surprise, the tea didn’t burn his mouth, or even taste bad. It tasted surprisingly pleasant, almost like a warm version of peach lemonade. The consistency was oddly syrupy, too, which was probably the reason it didn’t scorch him on contact. It made him feel good, too, like somebody had liquified pure energy and poured it down his throat. 

“Tastes like peaches,” he said.

“Cole liked it, too,” Nya sighed. “I had to take the thermos away from him so there’d be enough left for you.”

Morro frowned. “What’s a thermos?”

Nya arched an eyebrow. “Hold on, you don’t know what a thermos is?”

Morro shook his head.

Nya chuckled wearily. “Right, you’ve been dead for a while. It’s a type of canteen, I guess. Like… think of it as a smaller canteen inside a bigger one and the space between them has most of the air pumped out of it. It keeps the liquid inside at extreme temperatures a lot longer than a normal canteen.”

“Huh,” Morro muttered.

It was silent for a moment.

“Okay, don’t take this the wrong way,” Nya blurted, sitting up straight. “But what’s your angle here?”

Morro blinked. “What?”

“What’re you trying to do?” Nya demanded, her gaze hardening as her fists clenched briefly. “Why would you stay here? You hate Lloyd and you were gonna kill him! I don’t get why you haven’t tried something yet.”

That made Morro snort.

The implication that he’d dare try and lash out  _ now, _ of all times, was just absurd.

Nya glared at him, something startled and mildly frightened in her gaze. “How is this funny to you? You’re literally living with the individuals who want you dead the most. You  _ have _ to be planning something; I’ve fought people like you before—“

“You haven’t fought  _ anybody _ like me before,” Morro cut her off, and Nya’s affronted expression made him chuckle bitterly.

“Don’t get like that,” Nya snapped, her demeanor shifting from alarmed to frustrated in a matter of seconds. “Look, I just want to know what your angle is. What your plan is. Everyone knows you’d rather be anywhere else; either that or dead for real. What’re you playing at, Morro?”

Morro scoffed.

“You know,” he muttered, licking the last droplets of the healing potion out of his teacup, “if you genuinely believe I’d be stupid enough to tell you my  _ evil plans _ or whatever, you’re a lot denser than you look.”

Nya bristled, her voice taking on a razor’s edge. “Answer the damn question, Morro.”

Morro sighed.

“You know what?” He hissed, standing up so fast that Nya flinched, raising her orb of water. “You wanna know why? I don’t have anywhere else to go. You guys are literally the only people in the sixteen realms who aren’t gonna kill me on sight. The only other place I could go is the Departed Realm, and maybe once I got there I could… all this pain… it… I don't know, it would end and I could finally rest and be out of your guys’ hair but  _ Wu won’t fucking let me go. _ Why in the hell’d’you think I’d try something  _ now?” _

Nya seemed to do a double-take, her scowl softening almost imperceptibly. “Well, when you put it like that, I almost feel bad for you.”

Morro scoffed, shifting onto his side to face the wall.

“You try spending a thousand years in the Cursed Realm being tortured and forced to obey the Preeminent’s every command,” he muttered, hugging his arms around himself. Some of that residual cold from the nightmare… or flashback, he couldn’t tell, still clung to him, making him shiver even though he hadn’t been able to feel extreme temperatures since that day in the Caves of Despair.

Well, if you didn’t count that magical purple fire from the Dark Spirit.

Morro shuddered, the dragon's voice that sounded like a tempest whistling through a canyon, echoed in his ears.

_ UNWORTHY. _

He gritted his teeth, squeezing his eyes shut and sucking in a long, trembling breath (even though he technically couldn’t  _ actually _ breathe).

It wasn’t real.

That dragon had been a figment of his tortured mind’s twisted imagination.

That dragon  _ wasn’t real. _

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but if you’re feeling up for it, you should come to the war room,” Nya said, jarring him back to reality. “I think we could use a fresh perspective on these weird spirit things. Plus, Lloyd said it sounded like you knew what it was.”

Morro heaved a sigh, dragging himself upright.

“Fine,” he grumbled, combing a hand through his shaggy hair and shoving it out of his eyes. “But I’m gonna need some clothes.”

———

“You do know he’ll lose his shit, right?”

“Well, it’s your only option, airhead,” Nya grumbled as she rummaged through Kai’s closet. “Here, put this on. He knows better than to fuck with me.”

She tossed a black shirt in Morro’s general direction.

As soon as he picked it up off the floor, he cringed.

The shirt in question was a baggy T-shirt with what appeared to be a satanic skull with horns in a pentagram grasping a human heart, surrounded by flames. The words  _ Celine Dion _ were written above it in bright red capital letters, and below the design was a simple phrase that made absolutely no sense in the context of the shirt:  _ my heart will go on. _

“What the hell does this mean?” Morro demanded.

Nya shrugged. “Hell if I know. All I remember is that Kai found it in a thrift store and begged Zane to buy it for him.”

“You people are weird,” Morro muttered, yanking the shirt over his head. When he looked up at himself in the mirror, it hung weirdly on his narrow frame, but he knew it was the best he was going to get. Lloyd might’ve been only slightly shorter than him, but he was much sturdier and more athletic. Jay had roughly the same body type as Morro, but he was too short. Zane was much too tall, and Cole, well, he was taller and more built than Morro could ever  _ dream _ of being.

Kai, albeit being a bit taller and broader than him, was the only one whose clothes would come anywhere near being able to fit Morro, and that made him cringe.

Not for the first time in his life, Morro hated the fact that he’d been so malnourished at a young age. It had obviously irreversibly stunted his growth, leaving him shorter than he should’ve been and a lot skinnier and ganglier than he liked, but at least his constant and tireless training as a teenager had let him pack on some mass in what was almost entirely muscle. What little healthy fat and padding he’d gained while living at the monastery had wasted away during those four years of struggling to live and train on his own, his ribs painfully visible whenever he took his shirt off, his muscles uncomfortably prominent from emaciation and his face gaunt and his stomach hollow. Every time he looked in a mirror it made him cringe in anger and self-loathing; it reminded him of how Wu had abandoned him, how he’d lied and Morro had been forced to go his own way and now he was stuck until the end of time in this state of near cadaverous neglect.

There was no way for Morro to get a healthy physique, not anymore.

He was trapped, and it made him angry.

Warm relief trickled down Morro’s spine as his emaciated body disappeared under the baggy shirt and his old pants, which he preferred rather than the pair of athletic shorts Nya offered him. That was the reason he’d held onto his ratty old poncho for so long; it was effective at covering up and concealing this awful afterimage of a physical body that he’d been cursed with.

He frowned.

His forearms and calves were still visible, and the amount of exposed skin made him flinch. So he took the old bandages that he’d wrapped around his forearms and shins to protect them from the cold so long ago and put them back in place, sighing in relief.

“You sure do hate having exposed skin,” Nya remarked mildly.

Morro froze, halfway through pulling a sock on. Oh,  _ shit, _ was she going to make him explain—

“Don’t give me that look, you don’t need to talk about it if you don’t want to,” Nya sighed, shutting Kai’s closet door and handing him a pair of old black jika-tabis. “It’s a personal preference. Besides, I don’t think we have time to go through your tragic backstory right now.”

That made Morro scoff.

“Oh, believe me,” he muttered dryly, pulling the shoes on (which surprisingly fit rather well). “You people are the last people I’d talk to about that.”

He decided to omit the fact that he didn’t want to discuss his past with  _ anyone, _ really.

Or that…

Well, he’d slipped once, and the thought of slipping again like he had when he’d been seconds from the ghost equivalent of suicide and Cole had  _ somehow _ talked him out of it—

Morro shook his head to clear it. He’d been vulnerable and too angry and sad to think straight. 

Cole was… confusing.

Of everyone, he should be one of the angriest. Hell, Morro indirectly got him turned into a ghost! He’d  _ literally _ gotten Cole killed, and yet Cole was the only one of these people showing him any form of trust and being at least somewhat friendly.

People who wouldn’t hesitate to break out the hose if Morro did anything even  _ remotely _ suspicious, mind you.

“Morro? Uh, hello, I’m talking to you.”

Morro jumped in surprise, and there was Nya, standing in front of him and scowling, her arms folded across her chest in irritation.

“Sorry,” he blurted. “Just… spaced out.”

“We should get to the war room,” Nya said, grabbing his arm and tugging him out of Kai’s quarters. Everybody’s waiting on me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everybody has their emotional support psychopath/war criminal and mine is Morro

**Author's Note:**

> I know he’ll never get it in canon so I’m giving Morro the character/redemption arc he deserves because I always get attached to the traumatized sad asshole characters no matter what media it is and when I watch or read things my brain makes weird connections between different fandoms so naturally it somehow combined the Avatar universe and the Ninjago universe (I’ll explain the logistics of that later)  
> Also like.. Morro bonding with Cole after being asked for lessons on how to control his tangibility which results in a nice slow burn/enemies to friends to lovers thing?? good shit


End file.
